


Dust

by TheAwkwardPinCushion



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: abuse cw, also, also this was mostly setting practice, mildly fucked up shit, six has some daddy issues, sorry i didnt tag that sooner, this is the first time ive posted here in forever. hi, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardPinCushion/pseuds/TheAwkwardPinCushion
Summary: Arcade and Six have a talk about religion and the past.





	Dust

    Dust floated in the open air of the cathedral. It smelled like burnt wood and mildew. It would serve as a shelter good enough for the night. Some of the pews were broken, but the front two were intact. A 10-foot tall statue of Jesus loomed over the room. Cigarette smoke curled and disappeared into the ceiling.

    Six sat in front of the statue, the uncomfortable pew making his tailbone ache. He took a drag of his cigarette, ashing it onto the ground beside him. “Are you a religious man, Arcade?”

    The doctor looked over to him from the pew across the aisle, placing a bookmark in what he was reading. “Not particularly.” He watched Six stare at the statue. “Are you?”

    “My father was. Or, is. I’m not sure,” the courier said. He wasn’t talking to Arcade as much as he was the statue. “Said we were paying for the sins of those before us. Tell me, Arc. If you had a pretty dollhouse with pretty dolls, and the dolls started fighting, would you set your dollhouse on fire?” Another drag of his cigarette made it light up orange, the glow making him look older. He looked tired. “If God exists, he’s got a sick sense of humor.”

    “Not only set it on fire,” Arcade added, mostly trying to snap Six out of this spiral, “but put new dolls in it to play in the ash.”

    “Exactly.”

    Silence hung in the dusty air, broken only by the pages of Arcade’s book turning. The sun sank ever lower in the sky until the chill of desert night started to fall over them. A campfire was built from the broken pews and set up in front of the statue.

    “Tell me more about where you’re from,” Arcade asked, hands busy keeping the flames growing.

    “There’s not much to know. It was a piss-poor town inside the NCR by a mile and it was full of people with no hope and nowhere to go. I don’t remember much except how...gray it was. There were a few kids that would run around and that helped, for a while. When they grew up it got quiet again.” Six took a drag of his cigarette. “My dad was a piece of work. Beat the shit out of us when we got too loud at night and made us feel like it was our fault. I believed it until the week I decided to leave.”

    Arcade was silent.

    “Bastard didn’t want anything to do with me and my sister. My mom died when we were born. They had to cut her open to get to me because she was gone before I could get out. He blamed us.”

    Six’s laser pistol laid beside him on the pew, freshly taken apart and cleaned. He picked it up and examined it briefly, turning it over in his calloused hand. Red light illuminated the room for a moment, and the head of Jesus’ statue fell onto the floor with a loud _crack_.

    “Fucking bastard.”


End file.
